That Night at Howenstow
by DeadPigeon
Summary: An simple invite to Howenstow for Barbara Havers becomes fraught with complications.
1. Chapter 1

**That Night at Howenstow**

She'd just spent a fortnight on a grueling murder case and Barbara Havers was glad to have three days off. She was mostly glad to finally have some clean clothes and food in her flat again. Her first day off was spent cleaning and shopping, the next two, she decided; would be spent lounging on the couch watching the telly. Not exciting to some people, but it was cheap and relaxing and both were right up her alley. So that evening, she was more than a little miffed when her mobile rang and Lynley's name appeared on the screen.

"What?" She drug out the word, not trying to hide her exasperation.

"Well, good evening to you too, Detective Sergeant Havers" He laid on his posh charm extra thick just to yank her chain. She didn't bite back, though.

"Sorry, I was just getting ready to turn in…it's not a case is it? We are scheduled to be off you know."

"No it's nothing like that. I just called to see if you fancied a trip to the countryside? Howenstow to be precise."

"You want to drag me to another family gathering? That is not my idea of fun, Sir. You are a grown man you know, you _can_ go by yourself." She heard him snicker.

"Yes, I do know that I can go by myself Havers. I have done so before, thank you very much. And for your information, the estate is empty right now, mother is on a cruise ship floating somewhere off the coast of Greece. So I thought you might like to have the place to relax after all we went thru to finish out our case. I making a trip there to pick up a few items to furnish my new place and I just thought you might like to get out of the city for a while. And with no one there, there's no pressure on you."

Barbara didn't know what to say. She needed a moment to think about it.

"So what do you say?"

"I, um.." A free trip to the countryside with an overnighter in a posh mansion, what was there to think about? She had lied to herself earlier. Anything beat two days in her jammies stuck on the couch.

"I'm in."

"Great, pick you up at seven?"

"Seven, yeah."

"See you then Barbara. Goodnight."

"Goodnight Sir."

She didn't read much into the invite. She's been invited to his family estate on a number of occasions in the past. Mostly as moral support for family gatherings though. Still, she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth; so she set about packing a few things. It was nearly midnight and seven a.m. would arrive soon enough.

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Seven a.m. couldn't come soon enough for her. She told herself not to read much into the invite. But as she lay in bed, trying desperately to get some much needed sleep, she began to wonder. Why this time? There was no family gathering. He much as said he could go on his own. So why did he invite her? Was she just someone to bring along to fill the quiet? Thinking about it now, other than the rabbit hole he fell into after Helens death nearly three years ago; he never seemed to be alone. There was always his latest tryst, dinner or theatre with the St. James', or time spent on the family estate helping his mother. There was even time spent with her after work, the odd pint or occasional dinner at the pub. Safety in numbers she supposed?

She pondered this for the better part of and hour, looking for another reason, but that was it. She was a distraction, nothing more. Glancing at her phone on the bedside table, it was nearly one a.m. She turned away and pulled the covers snugly under her chin. At least now she could sleep.

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The next morning she found herself being awakened by the ringer on her door and not by the alarm she thought she set on her phone the night before. She sat up grabbed her phone and looked at the time…7:10 a.m.

"Aww crap! Crap, crap, crap" She threw aside her covers and rushed to the door without thinking.

He almost poked her in the eye when she opened the door the same time that his hand went for the ringer again.

"Good morn…" He was taken aback by the sight of her. It looked like… well yeah…like she had definitely just woken up. But that wasn't what bothered him. It was a toss up between her hair, which seemed to all be shoved to one side of her head and the thin thigh length pink cotton nightie which accentuated her curves and clung to her braless ample bosom.

He swallowed hard and let his hand that was still reaching for the ringer reach out to straighten her hair.

When his hand touched her head Barbara realized how she must look and what she was wearing. She immediately became self conscious and backed away.

"Sorry," she yelped out as she crossed her arms trying desperately to conceal herself. "Alarm didn't go off."

"I'll just…" he pointed back over his shoulder toward the car park.

"Yeah," she replied as she closed the door to a crack. "I'll be a sec."

She closed the door all the way and leaned against it, mortified. She was embarrassed about being caught off guard, half dressed and vulnerable. She hated that. But there was nothing she could do about it now, what was done was done. Shaking her head at her own stupidity, she blew out a heavy sigh and went to get dressed.

The ten minutes Lynley had to wait for her seemed like an eternity. Why did she have to answer her door dressed in that? The way she dressed at work he always thought she might wear some kind of muumuu or matronly floor length dressing gown. But that tight snug fitting nightie accentuated parts he never realized she had and then some. Of course his eyes were drawn to her breasts, he couldn't help it. He was a man. And she'd noticed that he'd noticed. The way she crossed her arms…_Danm_! This was an awkward start to what would surely be a very long trip.


	2. Chapter 2

Barbara dressed and raced to the car park as fast as she could. She's already kept him waiting long enough. This was a bad start to their trip. Hopefully it would pass soon enough.

She glanced around the lot for his Bristol. It was nowhere to be seen. She did notice that some twit was honking his horn off and on at the crack ass of dawn. The honking drew her eyes to a white panel van parked at the end of the lot. If she wasn't off work she'd walk over there and write the git up for…being her boss? Lynley stepped from the van and began waving her over.

Hoisting her overnighter further up on her shoulder, she set off towards him.

She eyed the van suspiciously. "Where's your car?"

"At home." He opened the sliding door on the side.

"Why the van?"

"I told you, I'm going to pick up a few things."

"But a moving van? Oh, I get it. Quiet weekender in the country, get away from it all. You needed someone to help you move and I was an easy mark!"

"Havers."

No, I don't think so, _Sir. _Find yourself another pasty!" She turned to go.

"Barbara!" He grabbed a hold of her arm before she could flee.

"What!"

"I'm not going there to load up some two hundred pound sideboard out of the main dining hall if that's what you're thinking. I'm just going to get a few small items." She was still shaking her head no. "And…I've already made arrangements with the estate manager to help me load. So are you coming or not?" He let loose her arm.

He got his reply when she tossed her bag into the back of the van next to his own.

"Right, let's get on the road then." He slammed the door shut with a little more force than was needed.

It was 7:45 when the van's tires hit the main road out of town.

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It was a good twenty minutes into their trip before one of them spoke again. Barbara knew she had to say something before the two hour drive drove her crazy.

"Can we share the radio this trip?"

She saw him smirk. "You know the rules Havers, my car my music."

She knew he was going to say that and she was ready.

"Technically, sir; this isn't you vehicle."

He knew this was heading for an argument, and damn it, he just didn't feel like it. Not today. So, he capitulated.

"Fine, we'll share. One hour for you one hour for me. Agreed?"

Her baffled expression and half choked, _"yeah" _didn't surprise him as much as the feeling he got from winning an argument by actually losing it. He might just might have to try that one again one day.

"I'll finish up the first hour."

"Ok." She said quietly.

He liked this. He liked this, a lot.

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He had to wake her when his hour was up. Classical always did tend to put her to sleep. But he found it put him into "the zone" when driving long distances.

"Wha…we there?" She mumbled in reply to being shaken from her slumber.

"No, it's just your turn with the radio."

Dam him for upholding his end of the bargain, she thought. She would have been just as happy sleeping the whole way. But now that she was awake, she wasn't about to skip her turn.

His hand hovered over the radio buttons. "What channel?"

She didn't reply right away. Instead she reached down and picked up her purse from off the floorboard. He dropped his hand and watched as she rummaged around in its depths. She pulled out her cellphone.

"I've got my own music." She pulled out a jack that plugged her phone into the van's radio. "MP3 player." She smiled.

Lynley felt his earlier gloat of victory begin to slip away. What was he in for? It's only and hour, how bad can it be?

Surprisingly enough, it wasn't bad at all. Her tastes were eclectic, from blues to reggae to some techno and classic American rock. And he discovered he really like Amy Weinhouse. Who knew? He might even have to abandon his "my car my music" rule.

Barbara was surprised to see him enjoying most of her music. He was even asking after the names of some of the artists. What was that all about? There had been a small shift in the way their relationship worked. When did it happen? Did she miss something? She had! They hadn't argued. Why hadn't they argued? Oh, right…he'd capitulated. He'd let her win and she never noticed. He can't do that! Oh yeah? Well he just did. She was so confused by what happened or rather what didn't happen that she never noticed that the last song she'd put on was over. She glanced to her right. He was looking at her.

"You alright?" .

"Yeah, course…just thinking."

"Penny for your thought?" He pressed.

She snorted and spoke without thinking. "You'll need a credit card."

She saw his eyebrows arch but he said nothing. She hurriedly put on another song to cover the silence. Luckily, it wasn't much longer and they were pulling onto the long gravel drive that led to the front door of Howenstow.


	3. Chapter 3

Stuart Nettles, Howenstow's estate manager met them at the door.

"Welcome home sir, it's been a while."

"Yes it has. Good to see you Stuart."

He accepted Lyndley's bag without a thought and had to reach for Barbara's before she realized she should hand it over. She quickly slid it from her shoulder and passed it to him.

"Thank you ma'am." He said curtly before heading off with their bags.

That was still something Barbara could never get used to. Someone waiting on her.

Lyndley turned to her as soon as Stuart disappeared from view. "How about a quick bite before you unpack? I'm starved."

"That sounds good." She took her time following him to him kitchen. She always loved taking in the surroundings at Howenstow. The hand carved moldings. The intricately inlaid ceiling tiles and of course all the antiques scattered about the place. She seemed to find something new every time she visited.

Lynley was rummaging around in the estates industrial sized refrigerator when she finally arrived. There was already a bottle of wine opened and breathing on the Butcher-block. A loaf of French bread had been sliced, and he was pulling a large tray of tapas from the fridge. Stuart had been busy. Must be nice, she thought; to arrive home and have everything waiting on you. No cooking, no cleaning. Just like living your life in some posh hotel.

"Ahem." She looked over at Lynley How long had he been standing there holding out that glass of wine to her?

"Sorry. I was just…"

"Thinking, I know. You keep that up Barbara and I'll _have_ to get out my credit card."

She couldn't help but blush as she accepted the glass from his outstretched hand. And he couldn't help but smile.

Barbara had to admit, brunch was exquisite. A selection of local cheese, imported Italian prosciutto, newly picked grapes that had been growing from the estates many arbors and a plate of fresh kippers. She hadn't had kippers in years. Did anybody still eat kippers anymore? Obviously the rich did.

As she finished her glass of wine, Lynley made a move to refill her glass. "Not thank you sir, I'm good."

He set the bottle down with a thump and gave her a stern look. "I know it's been a good six months since you've been out here Barbara, but do I need to go over the rules of the house again?"

"There's nobody here but us sir. I didn't think the usual rules of etiquette would apply."

"_Tommy." _He said firmly.

Oh…that one. She didn't think that one should apply either.

"No thank you _Tommy, _I'm good."

"Better." They'd been co workers and friends for the better part of nine years now, so why was it always like pulling teeth with her to get her to use his name?

Barbara refused a refill because she was already filling a bit light headed as it was, and she didn't need to embarrass herself further by becoming ass over tits drunk before noon.

She needed some air. "I think I'll go walk the gardens, if that's ok?"

"Feel free to do what you want and go where you want. Like I said when I invited you, you're here to relax. I, on the other hand; am going to find Stuart and get started on my list." He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a well folded piece of legal paper.

"Have a nice time." He downed the last of his wine and headed out the door, but stopped suddenly and turned back towards her. "You're in your usual room by the way."

"Ta." She replied.

Left alone in the kitchen, she wondered if she should put away the left-overs. _Posh Hotel_, she reminded herself and headed out to gardens.

She wandered around for the better part of and hour and noted how the usually pristine flowerbeds and hedges were beginning to look a little wilted under the relentless summer sun. It was approaching noon and she was beginning to feel the heat herself. She had carelessly grabbed jeans and a lightweight pullover in her haste to leave and she was beginning to sweat. She headed to her room to change. Hell, she might even take a bath or maybe even a nap if she felt like it. She liked having options.

She decided on all three once she got to her room. After a cooling bath she slipped into her favorite spaghetti strap floral sundress and lay down for a nap. She was roused from her sleep a short time later by the sound of furniture being dragged past her door and down the hallway_. Damn this place echoed. _

She refreshed her face, gave a quick fluff to her sleep flattened hair, slipped into dainty pair of sandals that complimented her dress and headed downstairs to see what all the noise was about.

She caught up to Lin…Tommy, she reminded herself, struggling on the stairway with an obviously heavy, wooden, sure to be expensive, Louie the something-or-other, straight backed chair. He'd obviously been hard at it since they'd parted. He was sweating buckets. Her nap left her refreshed and in a mood to tweak the nose of his lordship. She stopped on the stair above him.

"How's the moving going?" She asked, a little smile playing across her face.

He grunted again before looking up. When he saw her he set the chair down a kilter on the stairs and raised his right arm up to wipe his forehead on his shoulder. "What have you been up too?" He asked mainly out of politeness, not really needing to know.

She placed her right hand to her chin and tried to look pensive before she replied. "Let's see? I took that walk in the garden, went back to my room, had a cool refreshing bath and then a relaxing nap. How bout you?"

He bent down, and with another grunt gave the chair a lift before replying to her taunt. "Rub it in Havers, rub it in."

She made to pass him but hesitated as she drew along side. "Barbara," she reminded him and continued on down the stairs.

Damn, her for reminding him of his rules, and damn her for taunting him…and what _was _she wearing now? He turned his head just in time to see her and her sundress disappear around the corner. And Damn it, what was that smell? Jasmine, no Lemongrass. He shook his head to rid himself of its sweetness and continued on with the chair till he reached the landing. He sat down in it to catch his breath and to wonder what was wrong with today, something was very wrong. He just didn't know what. He did discover one thing though, as he squirmed uncomfortably. _Why in the hell did he want this chair?_


	4. Chapter 4

Tommy pushed and pulled, heaved and hauled until well past five o'clock. He surveyed the van one last time. Making sure all was secure and that there wasn't some possible way to squeeze his fathers card table in there. No, it was packed tight. He locked the van door and slid it shut. The house was now casting its shadow upon the van and a slight breeze was beginning to make a weak attempt at drying his shirt. He pulled the white cotton v-neck tee he was wearing off over his head and used it along with the breeze to help dry the sweat from his torso.

Barbara had spent the rest of the afternoon in the library nursing a ginger ale and reading up on the history of Cornwall. As often as she seemed to visit she didn't want to come off a complete moron about the place. The reading was a bit dry and she found herself nodding off a time or two. It was the shutting of the van door that broke her from her latest "reverie". She stood up and made her way to the window. Looking out she was just in time to see _Tommy _remove his shirt. It had been a few years since he'd paraded around in front of her half naked in the caravan, and she noticed that he had begun to sprout a couple of love handles. Nothing major, mind you. He was still in decent shape; just starting to look a little squidgy around the middle is all. He was seven years her senior so that put him about forty five now. It was to be expected, a man his age, keeping crap hours and living on pub food. She was surprised he still looked this good. Wait…what? What was she doing? Was she just "checking him out"? She turned away from the window.

But why not _just_ check him out? Why parade around like that unless you wanted someone to look. She had to admit she'd given him a quick once over that time in the caravan and it had left her tingling. And now? She made her self look out again. Problem was, this time when she looked out, he was looking back. What came next was more than a tingle. It was a jolt! Christ! What the hell was that? She backed away from the window till the back of her knees bumped into the reading room settee and she sat down with a plop. What was happening to her? Nothing felt normal since she accepted his invite. Why was that? Her stomach growled at her in reply. That's it! She's just hungry, maybe even a little hypoglycemic. It's making her dizzy. It had been almost six hours since brunch. Yeah, that had to be it. Problem solved. She headed off to the kitchen, a woman on a mission. She had to find out what was planned for dinner?

Tommy saw Barbara move away from the library window. Good, he wouldn't have to go hunting for her. He had worked up an appetite and wanted to tell her that as soon as he was showered and changed they would be heading down to the local pub for dinner. He headed inside. Problem was, when he got to the library, she was gone. He trod back to the foyer where he knew the acoustics were better and yelled.

"Havers!"

Now in the kitchen Barbara heard her name being bellowed throughout the manor.

"Havers!" Came the first call. "Barbara!" Came the next. "Barbara!" Soon again.

Oh good lord! She hurried to the foyer to stop him from calling out again.

"I'm here, …in the kitchen."

"What are you doing there? I thought you were in the library?

She screwed up her face a bit. Was there some kind of arcane house rule about changing rooms that she didn't know about? So she responded bluntly. "I was. And now I'm in the kitchen."

He was taken aback by her reply. "Good. Ok. Well, then if you're hungry; give me a minute to shower and change and we'll head into town for dinner and a pint."

And what was she just thinking about pub food? Never mind. It was pointless to argue a one sided conversation. "Alright." She agreed. "I'll just be sitting here...," She pointed to and sidestepped her way to another uncomfortable looking straight backed chair pressed up against the foyers chair railing, and sat. "….waiting for you"

His brow furrowed. Something was wrong with this conversation. "Right. Good." And he wasn't helping. "I'm going… He pointed to the staircase. "…now." And he turned, and he went, before it got any worse.


	5. Chapter 5

He was showered, changed and downstairs in what seemed like a matter of minutes to Barbara. How could he do that so quickly, and still turn out like a fancy Toff?

Tommy saw the slight shake of her head as he came down the stairs. He could tell she did it more for herself than for him, so he thought it best not to ask. Besides, he was so hungry he was tempted to eat the can of Barbecue Flavored Pringles that she had packed and offered to him halfway through their trip.

"Come on." He barked as he headed towards the kitchen.

"We're not taking the van?" She asked as she hurried to catch up.

He gave her one of his infamous, "you must be daft woman" looks that she'd come to know so well over the years. The look was always followed by a slightly pretentious explanation. Wait for it…wait for it.

"Barbara." And, there it was. "You don't expect me to park a van loaded with nearly 100,000 pounds worth of priceless antiques outside a pub full of drunks and assorted louts do you?"

She'd learned to stay away from these loaded questions long ago. She pulled up one of the noncommittal replies she saved for just such an occasion.

"Suppose' not." She had a hard time keeping the grin from her face.

He accepted her grunted reply as he always did, but this time, as he started to turn away; he could have sworn he saw a smile flicker across her face. He looked again. But her mouth was now a pencil line. He moved his gaze from her mouth to her eyes, and that's when he saw it. Her lips may not be smiling but her eyes were! What the hell was going on in there? He held her gaze.

"What?' She tried to feign innocence.

Bloody hell! How long had he been saying stupid stuff like that to her, and how long had she been laughing at him? He tried to hide the guilty smile that was threatening his face by rubbing his cheeks with his right hand, but he quickly gave in and threw both hands up in surrender.

"All right, you win! I'm a ponce! Not wanting to see her gloat, he shook his head in defeat and walked out to the carriage house where he found the estates Range Rover gassed up and waiting.

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It was a Pub, like any other pub. But this pub, The Twa Corbies, was the only one within a twenty mile radius of Howenstow. So, Tommy was well known there to the local lads and to the Gentry. He entered the pub to the usual catcalls. And Tommy's responded with his own acerbic retorts.

"Ah, the lord of the manor's come to call on us poor peasants!" The first rube chided.

"Piss off Henry, or I'll tell everyone I caught you last solstice dancing around in your back yard wearing nothing but your wife's nightgown."

"Pease sir, spare some change?" Followed another.

"How much do you want this time Rupert? Five…" He lifted one fist. "…or ten?" He raised the other.

"You…bringing the Lady…of the Manor by to greet us…Tommy?"

"Jasper you know you're not allowed a comment anymore." He also censured the man with a look.

By the looks of Jasper, Barbara thought he was possibly the oldest resident in town. By the smell of him, he had to be the drunkest.

The bartender took over where Jasper left off. "You going to introduce the sweet lass then Tommy? Or you gonna' keep her all to yourself tonight?"

Tommy cut the man a glance. "Tread lightly Barney. You don't want any trouble now do you?"

"It's been years since you've given this place a good rearranging. Think you still got it in you, have you?"

"It's not me you have to worry about. It's Detective Sergeant Havers here." Tommy snagged her at the elbow and pulled her forward. "She'll give you a right trouncing and have you in handcuffs before you know it."

Barney looked sincerely apologetic when he looked at her. "Sorry Guv...ness?" Barbara couldn't help but roll her eyes at that one. He quickly recovered. " I mean… ma'am. I didn't know you was one of them."

"That's ok," she touched the straps of her sundress. "I'm not exactly "On Duty" am I?"

Introductions and ribbing over for the most part, Barney held up a glass. "What'll you have then?"

She ordered a pint of local dark for herself and the same for Tommy. Turning around, drinks in hand, it took her a moment to find him. She found him sitting at a small table near the tourney board, slouched down into his chair, legs kicked out. The pub suited him. He looked comfortable. She handed him his beer. "Cheers"

"Cheers." He replied, taking in a deep swig of the dark brown ale. She followed suit, and sat across from him.

"So," she queried. "Come here often?"

"A fair bit. I grew up in this bar."

"Became a man here sir?"

"Huh?" It was the only reply he could give to such an open ended question.

"Barfight?"

"Oh. Good lord that was years ago, my first summer home from university in fact." She could see him remembering and he got quiet.

"So?" She prodded.

"Oh, Judith and I had popped in for a pint after a few rounds of tennis one afternoon and we found a few punked out rubes passing thru on scooters taking up most of the bar and giving young Barney a hard time. So, I asked him if everything was ok, and that's when one of them got in my face and told me to piss off." Tommy paused for another sip, obviously in no hurry to continue.

Looks like she was going to have to drag it out of him. "So? What happened next.?"

"I left."

"You left? How is that anywhere close to being a barfight?"

"I left…with Judith. Put her in safely in my car. Grabbed a tennis racket from the boot and went back inside."

"Tennis anyone?" Barbara smiled.

"Yep. It _was_ my favorite racket. What was left of it they hung it up like a trophy behind the bar. Hung there for years." He looked over at the adverts hanging there now. "Wonder where it went?"

She could just picture him standing at the pub door in his little white tennis shorts, white tennis shoes and little yellow polo shirt, brandishing a tennis racket trying to look intimidating. She couldn't help but let out a little chuckle.

He glanced over. "What's so funny? I won that fight." She was still smiling and thinking of him in those tiny tennis shorts. "Don't believe me?" He got defensive. "Ask Barney go ahead."

"No, I believe you. It's just the imagery. GQ tennis player trounces punk rockers." She snorted a laugh.

"Yeah, well looks can be deceiving." He replied a little too sternly.

"I'm well aware of that, _sir._"

Dammit. He'd spoken wrong and put her on the defensive. He needed to regroup.

"Look, lets order. I know were both hungry."

She was going to look at the menu board, but Tommy kept on talking. "And, you wouldn't know it by looking at this place but they make a fantastic lamb curry."

"Lamb curry sounds good."

"Right, two curries it is then." He left her alone at the table while he waited for their curries at the bar.

She watched him while she waited. Laughing with Barney and slipping Jasper a fiver when the bartender looked away. He seemed at ease here, more relaxed than she had seen him in years. He should visit Howenstow more often, be good for him. Back at the London and at the Met he was too hung up on himself. He let the Lord Lynley, Eighth Earl of Asherton crap define him there, but not here. Why was that? It would remain a question to be answered another day as her hunger and the big steaming bowl of curry being placed in front of her drove any thoughts but food completely from her mind.

After their meal and another pint of beer, Barbara was beginning to feel as relaxed as Tommy looked. _Tommy. _Maybe that was why she has a hard time calling him by his name. Tommy. What kind of name was Tommy? Wasn't a man's name as far as she was concerned. Ok then, Thomas. Better, but still no. Every time she said Thomas she pictured Thomas the Train in her head. No definitely not Thomas. Tom. No. Too…blue collar for the likes of him. _Sir. _Sir was perfect. Why couldn't she just be allowed to call him sir? Or, maybe he had a middle name? Hell most Lords seemed to have at least six. Maybe she'd ask? She looked up to ask him, but he wasn't there.

He seemed to be in the middle of a fracas at the dart board. And his voice began to carry above the others.

"Sit down Marcus!" She saw the man who must be Marcus fold his arms across his chest and took up a defiant stance against her boss. "Marcus if you don't sit down right now I'll have no choice but to call Constable Cleary to come get you for drunk and disorderly."

"I'm not disorderly!" He protested. But he was clearly drunk, Barbara thought.

Barney piped up this time. "You know what happed last time Cleary came for you Marcus. He banned you for six months. You wanna get banned again?"

Henry was the next to protest. "But Marcus is on my team. We can't finish the game without him!"

"Well until Marcus can play without trying to sabotage other people's darts, he sits!"

"But I still needs a second," Henry wined. There's twenty pounds riding on this game and we're…I'm winning."

"Fine then." Tommy said. "I'll be your second."

Henry groaned. "Didn't you hear me say…I was winning?"

"And?"

"Tommy, your crap at darts and you know it."

"Fine, you need a second…I'll get you a second."

Barbara saw him turn and head straight for her.

He held out his hand. "Come on."

"What? Me?"

"You're good Barbara don't deny it. Come on and show this fool how it's done."

"So," she went fishing for a compliment from him. "You think I have skills?"

"Mad skills." He rolled his eyes. "Now come on."

She took hold of his hand to be pulled up from her chair and she expected him to let go as soon as she was up, but he didn't. He held on firmly till they arrive at the group milling around the dart board.

"Here you go Henry. Best player in all the Met."

Barbara leaned in to in side and whispered heavily. "That's laying it on a bit thick sir!"

"Tommy." Was all he said before he pushed her into the fray.

Introductions were made and the game soon recommenced. Tommy returned to their table to watch as he nursed a fresh pint. She really was a fair player. And the fact that the other players were three sheets to the wind made her look like an exceptional one.

She seemed to be enjoying herself; he hoped she was enjoying herself. Conscripted as she was. It didn't hurt that being the only woman currently in the pub made her the center of attention. She and Henry seemed to be thick as thieves and she was laughing as he regaled her with jokes and stories that had long worn thin among the regulars. Soon the game was nearing it end and he could tell Barbara was getting tired. She kept dropping her darts. As she bent over to pick up another one he noticed that the bra strap that had been playing peek-a-boo behind her spaghetti strap all evening had slipped free and now hung loose against her arm. She didn't seem to notice at first. Not until Henry reached out to put it back on her shoulder.

She looked at Henry but all she said was. "Ta".

Soon afterwards Henry seemed to take it as an invitation. Hand on her elbow. Arm around her shoulder. When Barbara lined up to make what would likely be the final winning shot. He moved in behind her and put both hands on her hips. He saw Barbara visibly flinch and step away.

_Right_, Tommy thought to himself as he rose from his chair. _Enough of this_.

He strode towards the group. "Ok, Henry, let the lady finish her shot. It's getting late." Henry could read Tommy's signal as he got closer so he held up his hands in mock surrender and backed up a few paces. Barbara then easily threw the double six she needed to finish and the game was over.

Henry gave her ten pounds of their winnings and a quick peck on the cheek, along with a sly glance at Tommy, before turning back to the bar to buy a last round for the friends that still remained.

"Whew," Barbara said aloud as she fanned herself with her winnings. "That was hard work. I'm sweating."

He did notice that she looked flush. But was it from the darts, the booze or the boys? Hardly boys, more like lecherous old men. At least Henry got the message, for the most part. But that kiss on the cheek, what was he playing at!

He then watched as Barbara folded up her ten pounds and proceeded to stuff into the front of her bra. Once again he found himself looking at her breasts. _Damn it!_

He could only raise and eyebrow, at which she patted her dress and said, "No Pockets."

He snagged her arm once again at the elbow and steered her towards the door.

She balked "One for the road then, sir?"

"No Havers." He pushed more firmly this time. "I think we've both had enough."


	6. Chapter 6

Barbara could tell he was in a mood during the drive back to Howenstow. The silence in the truck was palpable. As they approached the estate, she noticed how the yellow lights glowing from the mansions windows subtly silhouetted its shape against the darkened sky. It gave the quaint home a sense of foreboding usually found only in a Bronte novel. She shivered. Was it from the foreboding, or was it from the breeze blowing in thru the passenger side window that she had lowered on their drive home? She hoped it was from the breeze.

Tommy pulled around back and parked the Range Rover nearest the kitchen entrance. Before he had turned off the ignition, Barbara had hopped out and made her way to the door. He watched her darkened form move away and notice the subtle sway of her full hips and the ease at which she seemed to carry herself tonight. He had never seen her like this in London, ever. Why here? Why now? He was frustrated. But all he could do right now was roll up her window, turn off the ignition, tuck the keys into the visor and followed her inside.

He found her waiting in the kitchen. What was there to say? He walked past her towards the foyer. "Nightcap?" He said. It was all he could think of.

She followed him to the study and watched as he poured himself three fingers of scotch.

The Lynley's did love their alcohol. Wine before noon, a Sherry after noon and a pint or two with lunch, then more wine with dinner followed by cocktails in the evening. She could hardly keep up with then some holidays.

"You want anything?"

"A Harvey Wallbanger." She snarked at him, just to see if he knew how to make one.

He turned back to the sideboard of crystal decanters and began pulling out what he needed.

_Oh bloody hell! _She was just kidding. She moved beside him and held his arm. "Stop, I was joking." He clanged down the decanter he was holding. "Help yourself then," he sighed, and moved away to take a chair.

She poured herself a whiskey and soda and planted herself into a chair opposite him. She took a large swig of the Dutch courage she was holding before forcing herself to speak her mind.

"You're in a mood tonight. What gives?"

A long moment of silence passed before he even acknowledged her. He seemed to be elsewhere. When he did look at her she shivered again, only there was no open window to blame it on this time. An instinctive fight or flight mode gripped her and she stood up to leave.

"Don't." It was all he said when he finally spoke.

Fear was telling her to run, but logic was insisting that she stay. She sat back down, cradling her drink in her hands.

He still didn't know how to talk to her. He had questions, but they were all mixed up in his brain. He looked at the drink in his hand. _Dulled by the alcohol, I suppose_.

Say something you twit! "You're different." He finally blurted out.

"What do you mean different?"

"What you're wearing, how you're acting. You're different."

She looked down at her dress. "What? This old thing? I've had this for ages. Just don't have much chance to wear it. Can't wear it to work now can I."

"Why not?"

"You're kidding, right?"

"No."

He watched her as she downed her half full glass of whiskey in one gulp and turned back to the sidebar for more. He sat up straighter. She sat back down with a full glass and picked at the hem of her dress. He noticed she looked pale and her eyes started to shimmer. _Christ, what had he started?_

"I'm sorry. Never mind." He made a move to go.

"Wait." She met his eyes and he sat back down. She could do this. She had to do this. She'd kept it too herself for too long and he was the one and only person she could possibly share this with.

"This is the first time I've worn this dress in nearly ten years. It was my favorite. I used to wear it a lot. But not long after I joined the Met I realized I had to make a choice. It was either my dress or my career."

She could tell by his expression that he didn't understand. Most men don't. Not unless you pull the ugly truth from the shadows and shove it under their noses. Some will still deny it even then.

"I'm not literally talking about this dress per se. I'm talking about my wardrobe. I did used to be a girl you know. I wasn't always Constable Havers, or DS Havers. I used to go clubbing. Hang out with my mates. Wear short skirts and tight tops. But, if you want to be a woman at he Met you have three choices. If you're ambitious and have a fair amount of looks you sleep your way "up" the chain of command. Or you can be like those who think they can be themselves and still be "one of the guys", only to wake up one day to find yourself passed around and talked about as the departmental whore. Or you take the third option. Dress down, keep your head down and keep to yourself. It's a slow climb, but at least you get to keep your self respect. You'd think that senior female officers in the Met would tell all their female cadets about this when they join, but no. They want to haze you. They want you to suffer the same indignations that they did and watch you either sink or swim. I guess they think it builds character!"

The vehemence at which she spit out that last line worried him. But she didn't stop there.

"Yeah, it really builds character when your OIC tries to assault you in the women's locker room, and after you kick him in the groin and leave him writhing on the floor, he still gets to tell "the guys" you gave him the best blow job ever. And then when you complain thru the proper channels you find yourself reassigned as a meter maid in Cardiff for a year!" She emptied her glass again.

"I'm so sorry Barbara. I didn't know."

"I know you didn't know sir, because you've been a part of it for most of your life."

"I don't.."

"I'm not blaming you. But think about where you went to school. An all male boarding school. I'm sure all you lads spent your hormonal years talking about and treating women with respect, give me a break! And then when you joined the Met. I know you've seen what goes on. It's just easier to turn a blind eye and not rock the boat, especially if you want to become a DI."

That was a slap. But what could he say. She was right…about everything.

"So," she continued on, standing up now to pace the room as she spoke, "It's taken me nearly fifteen years, but I think I've finally earned your respect and the respect of most of my colleagues. And now that I'm not that fresh faced, petite, virginal constable anymore I think it's about damn time that I started wearing my sundress again." Setting down her glass on the sideboard, she reached up with both hands, tugged at the bodice of her dress and then pushed up on her boobs. "Even if it is a little snug these days."


	7. Chapter 7

Her frank and truthful revelations left him at a loss. He wanted to say so much to her, to right all the wrongs done to her. Words would never do her justice, but he was hesitant to do what he felt was right.

Barbara didn't quite know what to do with herself after she'd finished setting things to rights. She wasn't trying to make him feel guilty or expecting any platitudes in return, so she returned to the sideboard to pour herself another drink.

_Oh Bugger it!_ Tommy shot up from his chair. He crossed the room and stopped her before she had time to refill her glass. She jumped when his hand touched her bare shoulder. Turning her round to face him before she could protest, he pulled her in and held her tightly to his chest. He was worried he'd done the wrong thing, but when she wrapped her arms around his waist in return; he relaxed. He cared. He truly cared and this was all he could think to do to convey that to her.

They held on to each other until he felt the need to ask her something.

"We're mates then, aren't we Barb?

She relaxed her hold. "Yeah, best mates."

He pulled away, placed his hands on her shoulders and gave her a roguish smile.

"Then lets do something we've should have done a long time ago." He took his left hand off her shoulder and reached for a decanter. "Let's get pissed!

She laughed and let go. Mirroring his smile, she leaned casually against the sideboard. "One Harvey Wallbanger please."

It was his turn to laugh. "Coming right up."

She had no idea what was in a Harvey Wallbanger, but she didn't care. This was good. They were good. And that was all that mattered.

He definitely knew what he was doing and with two quick pours was done, or rather; seemed to be done. He slid the glass just out of her reach. "Don't touch." He said firmly. "Be right back." And he hurried from the room.

She knew it was best not to ask, so she folded her arms and waited. She didn't have long to wait. He returned soon, struggling with an armload of items from the kitchen. Barbara reached out to snag a long knife that was dangling precariously between his thumb and forefinger. She didn't want to lose a toe.

He dumped the rest of the items onto the sideboard. "If were going to do this Barbara, we're going to do this right." Aside from the knife, which she added to his pile; he had brought back one orange, three lemons, a sickly looking piece of celery, a bottle of Tabasco sauce, a small bucket of ice, a container of orange juice and a cutting board.

He shoved most of the items to one side and set about slicing an orange wedge that he used to decorate the side of her glass.

"There." He handed her the finished concoction. "Now it's perfect."

He snagged a clean glass, tossed in some crushed ice, poured in an ounce of this, two of that, cut in half and added a generous squeeze of lemon, gave it a quick swirl with his forefinger and then gave his finger a taste. "Mmmm, perfect."

"What are you having?" She queried.

"I thought I'd start off with a Boston Sidecar and then…who knows." He yanked open one of the drawers to the sideboard and pulled out a small red book. "Come sit."

Tommy passed by the winged back chairs they had been sitting in before in favor of a large well worn leather couch occupying the opposite side of the room. He turned on an adjacent floor lamp for extra lighting and then settled himself into one of the couches deep corners.

Barbara took over the other corner and was a little shocked when he plunked his size twelve trainers on top of the short and very old looking table set in front of the couch. He tossed the small book onto the cushion that separated them. "Have a look at that."

She picked it up and turned it round in her hand to get a read of the gold embossed lettering on its cover. It was a copy of _The Bartenders Guide._

"Thought you might like to know what you're drinking." He'd guessed she'd never had a Harvey Wallbanger before. "And you can find something else to try later." She thanked him and curled her legs up under her on the couch, angling herself in his direction. She balanced her drink carefully on the back of the couch and opened the book.

As she read, Tommy spent the next few minutes looking at his shoes and thinking about his list, his drink, the maintenance scheduled on his Bristol and eventually the trash he forgot to toss before he left his flat that morning. He thought of anything that would keep from thinking about her. But as hard as he tried, thoughts of her and the sound of her flipping pages at the end of the couch kept fighting for his attention. After a while, it was the quiet of the room that brought an end to his dilemma.

He glanced over at Barbara. She had closed the guide and left it resting in her lap and was now staring intently at her glass as she turned it slowly with her fingers. Lost in thought she never noticed him staring or even waving a hand at her. She never even registered when he spoke her name. "Barbara?"

"Barbara?" Still nothing_. Time to ante up_.

Lifting his feet off the table he sat forward. He set his drink down with a heavy "klunk" and reached for his back pocket.

It was his movement that finally drew her attention. She thought he was leaving, but instead he pulled out his wallet. He took something out and slapped it down hard on to the table.

It was a credit card.

"So tell me." The look in his eyes dared her.

She popped up and snagged the card before he could take back his offer. She gave it the once over. "So…what's my limit?" She asked him with all seriousness.

"Well, if you're talking about drinks, I'd say you're well past it."

"You know I'm not!"

"Past it?" He taunted.

"Or that!

She waved the card at him, "So…?"

He never liked flaunting his wealth, especially around her, but hey…she asked. "I'd say there's enough for you to retire on for a few of years."

Barbara's eyes widened and she gave the card another look…before she stashed it with the ten pounds still tucked away in her brassier.

What she did surprised him, but he played it cool. "I'm still waiting," he said before polishing off his drink.

Barbara wasn't sure if he was totally serious or if it was the alcohol talking. Probably a little of both, but she decided to test the waters first anyway.

"I was just wondering when the new flavored Pringle was coming out. Sea Salt and Vinegar, it aught to taste great with a pint."

His eyes darkened and he held out his hand. "Give it back then. That's not even worth a penny." He was serious.

"Sorry." She capitulated by throwing up a hand. "I'm sorry. If you really want to know…I was thinking about Howenstow."

"Howenstow, what about Howenstow?"

"I was thinking about all the times I've been here and, I don't want to presume, but since my mother passed, and I don't have any relatives to speak of; it kina feels like a home away from home. I feel a little like family when I'm here.

He smiled at her revelation.

"You should Barbara. Mother loves you and Judith thinks you're a hoot. And by the way, you two have been thick a thieves lately. I hope she's not been trying to rope you into our battles." It seemed to be a tradition between Tommy and his sister to try and get one over on the other whenever they get together at the holidays. She had managed to stay neutral, so far.

Barbara grinned at the thought. "It's not for lack of trying on her part. Though, I might take her up on it next time." She finished off her drink and held it out. "I'll take an Amaretto Sour this time"

He gave her a smirk and took her glass. She watched him work, noticing that he didn't need the book to make her drink. A DI, a tennis enthusiast and now a Bartender, she'd learned more about him in the last few hours than she had years. He'd always been careful to distance himself in the past. What caused the shift? It all started this morning when she- _Aww, bloody hell! When she answered the door! _She hadn't noticed. She'd been caught off guard and too royally embarrassed to notice. But now, looking back; she realized his eyes were glued to her boobs. _He checked her out!_ _And it wasn't the only time! _ She wanted to be mad at him but couldn't, because she also realized it wasn't his fault. She'd made it all happen. Had she done it all on purpose? Was she…flirting? No it was all accidental. Had to be. No Alarm, no pockets, no secrets. Just accidents, right?

When Tommy tuned around with her drink he could tell she'd been doing it again. Thinking. Only, judging by the mortified look on her face he wasn't about to ask what it was. Even thought she still had his card. He recognized her flight mode, he'd seen it before. He needed to do something to get her to stay. He could give her the drink he was still holding. That would delay her for a moment. _Good idea_.

Her mortified look was replaced by a forced smile when he handed her the drink. He'd made a second Amaretto Sour for himself and set it on the table. He was about to sit, when he thought of something else. It was perfect. It was something his mother had been trying to do for years, but he kept telling her no every time she'd bring it up.

A few more steps had him in front of one of the large built in bookcases set into the back wall of the room. He reached up and pulled down a decorative file box, carried it back to the table and set it down in front of her. She looked intrigued. That was a start. He sat beside her and pulled off the lid. It was full of photogtaphs.

"Pictures!" Barbara exclaimed. "I didn't think you lot did pictures?"

"Why not?"

"The only photo's I've ever seen around here are the old ones in the fancy frames sittin' on the piano.

"Well, we Lynley's like too keep our dark secrets hidden in a box."

Barbara laughed and he relaxed. She wasn't going anywhere.

She sipped her drink. "Mmmm, this is good."

"Thanks, it's the pared down version, just Amaretto and lemon. Some recipes add a lot of other stuff, but I like to keep it simple." He took a drink of his own and then set it back down before digging around in the box. He almost panicked again when she stood up.

"Where…?

"Sorry, I'm off to the loo. I'm about to pop."

After she disappeared out the door, he figured he might as well go too. He thought she'd be in the washroom off the foyer so he headed to the one located near what was once the housekeeper's quarters. When he returned to the study, Barbara was still absent, so he picked up his drink and waited.

When she returned, he had to do a double take. She was holding her sandals in one hand, her can of Pringles in the other and she looked a little unsteady on her feet.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, fine. Just getting a little tipsy I think. I almost lost it coming down the stairs, hence the shoes." She waggled them at him.

"Thank god you didn't."

"Oh, thank you for your concern, sir."

"Can't have you die on me here Barbara. This is a mansion you know. Your ghost will be stuck on the stairway shaking a can of Pringles for eternity."

She burst out laughing. Laughing and shaking her can of Pringles all the way to the sofa.

"I can just see me now, haunting one of your fancy dinner parties. Floating through the dining hall…" she swayed herself back and forth as she said this. "Approaching your guests going, _Pringle sir, or fancy a Pringle ma'am? _She leaned towards Tommy and held out the can, "Pringle sir?"

He set down his drink and snatched the can from her. "Don't mind if I do." Popped the lid and grabbed a handful while Barbara plopped herself down on the couch next to him, trying not to laugh. "Co-ah that was funny," she said as he handed her back the chips. She took a stack for herself and munched away.

Tommy pulled out a handkerchief from his front pocket and gave his hands a quick wipe.

Leave it to him to have a handkerchief, Barbara thought as she watched him. She didn't know they still made them.

As he reached for some photos, Barbara noticed a placard on the front of the box. It said TOMMY. "This whole box is you?" She'd never seen so many pictures. Her family's entire collection barley took up an album. "We all have one." He nodded over to the shelf. She saw three more boxes. With a stack of pictures in his hand he leaned back into the couch. Barbara did the same and then leaned against his shoulder to get a better look.

The first on was him as a boy, looked about three. He was sitting on a tricycle, a mop of dark hair on his head, looking up defiantly at the camera. _Stubborn even then. _.He passed through a few more of the same age and stopped at one that looked different. It looked like a birthday party. He was possibly six, standing behind a brand new bicycle; grinning like a boy without a care in the world.

The next photo he stopped on was taken just outside the carriage house. He looked about twelve and he was sitting in what looked like a home made go-kart. His hair was longer, and still a mop. She looked up at his now seriously tamed hair. It was obviously something he had to grow into. 'You seemed to have a fondness for vehicles."

"Still do."

She knew he was talking about his beloved Bristol. "You make that kart yourself?"

"Yes I did. Drove Penellin crazy all summer. The man was a fanatic about his tools and I left them and a mess everywhere. I was insufferable at that age." Barbara snorted a little louder than she realized.

"I am not the least bit insufferable!" He looked down at her defiantly. She only raised her eyebrows I response. "Ok, maybe a bit…but you re too at times!"

"Whatever," she said nudging his arm.

He flipped through more of the same and then went back one. "Look, just inside the carriage house door in the background." She took it and held it close to get a good look. There, in the shadows, was a scowling John Penellin. She felt sorry for the man, truly sorry. "You ok?" Barbara asked reaching for her drink.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks."

She handed back the photo and polished off her Amaretto Sour.

This wasn't so bad, he thought as he reached for another stack. He grabbed more than he did the first time and lost one onto the floor.

"I got it." Barbara said. She barley missed setting her glass on the table as she leaned down to pick it up the photo. She whished she hadn't bent over so fast. All the blood rushed to her head and suddenly intensified her buzz. It took her a couple of grabs to pick it up. When she did, she got a shock.

"Oh, my God!" She blurted out.

He was startled by her outburst.

"What, what is it?'

She held up the picture that had fallen to the floor. There was teenage Thomas Lynley, posing for the camera, tennis racket in hand. "That's how I imagined it…I mean you! I mean…" _Slow down Barbara. "_That's how I imagined you were dressed when you had your bar fight."

He thought it might be the same at first glance. Tommy took the picture from her and gave it a look. The only difference was the shirt color. It had been salmon colored, not yellow like the one in the photo. "Close to it." He said. "I think I was only seventeen in this picture. Fight didn't happen till a few years later when I was in my twenties."

She didn't really hear what he said, her head was still buzzing. She still couldn't believe how accurate she'd been and now to have proof in a photo. "Look at those shorts, and look at those legs!" She guffawed. "Let's not." He replied, trying to conceal the photo.

"Give it over. I want to see it again." She made a flailing attempt to snatch it. He just held it farther away.

He then watched as Barbara leaned away and tugged at the top of her dress, again giving him full view of her assets and of her pink bra when she reached in and snag his credit card.

"Trade you." She offered, holding it out to him.

What was he expecting? He was the one who said, _lets get pissed. _So he reluctantly traded her for the credit card. It was very warm.

"I think you've had enough." He started returning photos to the box.

"My head may be a little fuzzy, but I'm no where near _Pissed, _and neither are you for that matter. You Lynley's may drink like fishes, but I think I can hold my own. Thank you very much!"

"You finished?" He asked.

She shook her head and he stood up "Can I refresh your drink then?"

"Yeah," she said waggling her finger at her glass on the table. She wasn't about to lean over and try to and pick that up. Broken glass, how many years bad luck was that? Oh wait, that was mirrors.

Tommy wondered what she was snickering about to herself as he fixed a slightly virgin Screwdriver for her and grabbed a new bottle of Whiskey from out of the sideboard for himself. She was right about the Lynley's. If she wanted pissed it would take more than mixed drinks or fancy cocktails to get him there.

He returned with her drink and set his bottle down on the table. She watched him as he opened it. "You drinkin' that?" She wanted to know. And he gave her an answer when he finished removing the lid and took a swig from the bottle.

"Ok, maybe this was a bad idea." She offered.

"If you want me pissed, this is what it's going to take."

_Shit_. She'd forgotten about the damn rabbit hole. Barbara sat up and as safely as she could she slowly leaned forward and placed her drink on the table. She then reached into the box. Rummaging around in the bottom, she pulled out some more pictures and handed them to him.

"Let's look at these for a while instead."

He accepted her answer and settled in with his arm across the back of the sofa so that she could sit closer. She sat back and leaned in as he began passing pictures to her while narrating each little frozen moment in time.

A little later she stopped reaching for the pictures he was handing to her. He could tell by her breathing she was asleep. She had started to slouch forward so he slid his arm off the couch and around her shoulder to help keep her upright.

He liked looking out for her. Possibly more than he was willing to admit before. Before when? Thinking back it took him a moment._ Oh. _It was before Helen had died. He could still remember his wife's words. "If you were having an affair I could understand." He never did understand. Not until now. This was the longest he'd ever been in any kind of a relationship…with anyone. _Best Mates. _That's what she'd said. They'd been partners for nine years now and he never knew a damn thing about her that mattered until tonight. Why was that? What else had she buried all those years ago besides her figure?

He glanced at his watch. It was near 2 a.m. He should get some sleep but he didn't want to wake her or go off and leave her alone. He moved her slowly at first, but she never roused. He laid her down so that her head was against the armrest and carefully placed her legs up on the couch in a slight V. When he sat back down at the other end, her feet were almost touching his leg. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes for just a second; thinking that he should probably go fetch a blanket.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was 9 a.m. when the sun finally crested the tops of the estates trees and shone itself into the study of Tommy's ancestral home. It warmed his face and woke him from his slumber. He squinted his eyes. _Damn! _He'd forgotten to draw the curtain last night. He moved to get up and found his right hand resting on Barbara's feet. They were ice cold. _Damn! _He'd fallen asleep and never gotten that blanket. He let his hand rest there trying to share any warmth his hand might have. When he looked at her, he noticed that she had her arms pulled tightly into herself. The rest of her looked cold too. Well, he'd failed her again.

No, failed wasn't the right word. Disappointed, that was it. There were so many times in the past couple of years where she would look at him and he felt like he had disappointed her in some way or another. Maybe it was because she hoped that he of all people would be able to see past the protective barrier she'd placed around herself and see her for who she really was. Was he really just as bad as the rest of them? Maybe he should he apologize? Maybe he should ask forgiveness? Maybe he should just give up drinking? He needed a moment…so he closed his eyes again. Not because he was tired, but because he wanted to block out the sun and its morning revelations.

It was the warm hand on her foot and not the sun that woke Barbara. She didn't open her eyes right away; she just lay there enjoying the warmth and his kindness. But soon, his hand began to rub across the tops of her feet, slowly at first and then it settled on one foot and he began to give more of a…_Oh, that felt good!_...foot massage, She hazard open and eye and realized that he did not seem to even notice he was doing…what he was doing. He was deep in thought with his eyes closed, the thumb and forefinger of his other hand pinched tightly to the bridge of his nose and he was slowly shaking his head.

She needed to stop his before…'_Before what Barbara?'…_before they both got into trouble? Yeah, like that was gonna happen! She moved the leg his hand was on ever so slightly. He must have felt her move because he stopped. So, she moved again. It was time to pretend to wake up.

When her leg moved, he realized his hand was no longer just resting on her foot. He tried to shoot up off the couch, to distance him from what he was doing. _Hell, what had he been doing!_ But he'd been sitting in one position so long that his back protested his every move. And then his neck, which had been knocked back on the couch all night decided to join in on the fun. He felt like a decrepit old man every time he moved. At least the didn't have a hangover, unlike Barbara.

As soon as Barbara sat up she grabbed her head and lay back down. _Christ! Something just kicked her in the head! _She lay there a moment, waiting for the pounding to subside. She looked up at Tommy who was having his own difficulties. "Need a walker?" She croaked out. Her mouth full of barbecue Pringle flavored cotton. "At least I can stand up," he snarked back.

She laughed. "We're a right pair, aren't we sir?"

"Tommy." He emphasized his name again.

"Tommy." She repeated. Her head hurt too much to fight.

She held up her arms. "Give us a hand then, Tommy?"

He grinned and pulled her off the couch the best he could. They almost toppled over. But he managed to steady them both.

"Let's not do this again anytime soon," she requested as she clung to his biceps for support.

"Well Barbara, If you want to come back to Howenstow for mother's birthday bash next month you're going to need to be able to keep up with the fishes."

Barbara closed her eyes and groaned. "Did I really say that last night?"

"That and other things." He laughed at her expression.

Barbara reached down and picked the nearly full whiskey bottle and cap from off the table. "You didn't drink this," she said as she screwed the cap back on.

"Didn't need to."

She carried the bottle back to the sideboard. "I'm glad I fell asleep then."

"Me too." He replied softly.

She could tell he meant it.

"So, do you feel like breakfast this morning? Some toast and jam perhaps?"

"No! All I need right now bath and a toothbrush, thank you."

"Should I help you with the stairs?"

"You're not going to let it go are you?

He just laughed.

"Right, I'll just leave you here then." She bent down for her sandals and grabbed them, along with her head again. "Oww!"

"Lightweight." He chided

"Yeah, well you're a…you're a…" A snappy comeback eluded her. She made it to the door before she could spit something out. And spit she did. "You're a fish!" _Oh, God!_

She left him laughing again.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It took Barbara nearly forty-five agonizing minutes to do what normally would have taken her fifteen. She didn't remember ever having a hangover that made it hurt to brush her hair. Never again. Never again. She repeated this over and over to herself as she made her way down the stairs. She found Tommy eating a plateful of leftover kippers, and looking like he'd never touched a glass at all last night. _How does he do that?_ Was it something they taught him as a boy at that posh boarding school of his?

"Want some?" He mumbled through mouthful when he saw her.

She didn't reply, she just made a face at him and he got the message.

"I'll have a go at a piece of toast, though. Where's the bread?"

Chewing another mouthful, he pointed his fork to a breadbox on one of the counters to her right. "Thanks," she said.

He watched her as she made her toast. Again, she looked different. She wore a pair of dark burgundy Capri pants, brown leather sandals and a light burgundy, short sleeve fitted button down shirt decorated with a small cream floral pattern, very flattering. He was still utterly amazed to find out there was a woman buried away in there after all these years.

She caught him staring. "I would say penny for your thoughts, but you don't need the money."

He didn't think the truth would hurt. "This one's free. I was thinking how nice you look in that outfit.

She blushed. She wasn't used to compliments, especially not from him.

"Thanks," she replied, before biting into her toast to try and hide the blush that still seemed to be spreading.

Between bites they made plans to head out after breakfast. Barbara agreed that she would feel better nursing her hangover at home. She made quick work of her toast and headed upstairs to gather her things. "Just drop your stuff by the front door," he called after her.

She waved a hand in reply as she disappeared from view.

A couple of minutes later Tommy finished up and tossed his dished in the sink. He headed to his room to wash up, to get rid of his fish breath and to pack up his things. Once he'd finished, he headed downstairs and made a quick stop in the study. He stuffed the loose pictures on the table back in the box and put the box back in its spot on the shelf. If his mother knew the pictures were no longer off limits she'd have Barbara trapped in here for hours.

Barbara was waiting for him with her overnight bag when he made it to the door. "Here," he tugged the strap from her shoulder. "The van's packed. I'm going to have to find a place to put these." Her bag joined his in his hand.

It took a few minutes at the van, but he was able to shove their bag in between the cleverly stacked chairs, tables, paintings and assorted knick-knacks. He opened his door to get in and remembered something. "Be right back!" He dashed back inside. She waited patiently in her seat looking into the back of the van wondering what he could have possibly forgotten.

He came back out holding a pillow. He opened her door. "Here." He didn't like the way her head had banged off the window when she'd slept on the drive up.

Barbara didn't know what to say. "Thanks." It was the least she could say to such a thoughtful gesture.

They hit the road a little after eleven and made quick stop at the village petrol station for fuel. Tommy pointed to the stations shop. "You want anything?"

She looked over. "I am feeling a little dehydrated from last night. I think I'll grab a water." She grabbed her purse from the floorboard. "You want anything."

He pushed a fiver on her. "I'll have the same, my treat."

She didn't argue. She dropped her purse, grabbed the fiver and headed inside.

As soon as she left the van Tommy reached down and snagged her purse. He set it in her seat and opened it. He reached under his seat found what he had snuck there as he'd gotten in the van. He put it in her bag, closed it shut and put it back on the floor. She returned a few minutes later with his drink and his change and they were soon back on the road.

Barbara told him to go ahead and put on his music, she thought the best thing for her head would be sleep. He turned it on, but kept the volume low for her.

He made sure to wake a good ten minutes from her flat. There was nothing worse than being thrown out of a vehicle all groggy from sleep. He'd been roused from plenty of tandem surveillance details to know that, and had she.

Barbara always like that feeling she got when she arrived back in town after a vacation or even a quick overnighter. The city always seem new to her eyes again. Like a kid unwrapping his first Christmas present and going "Wow" at what he sees. She stifled a sigh. _Too bad it didn't last. _

He pulled into her car park and stopped near her walkway. They both hopped out and met at the back of the van. He had to yank on her bag a few times to free. Things seemed to have shifted on the drive.

"I had…an interesting time," he said as he handed her the bag.

She slung it over her shoulder. "Me too. See you tomorrow, _sir_?"

He shook his head and rolled his eyes at her nonsense. "Yes _Havers_, see you tomorrow." He gave the back door a slam.

She headed down the walkway and up to her front door. Funny thing, she never heard him drive off. She looked back over her shoulder and saw he was waiting for her to go inside. He never did that before. She opened her bag to find her keys and that's when she saw it. When did he do that! He's slipped a photograph into her purse. She pulled it out for a better look. She smiled and looked up just in time to see him drive away. It was the picture of young _Tommy_ in his tennis outfit! She was going to have to nip out later in the day to find a fancy frame for it. She opened her door and stepped inside.

What neither Barbara nor Tommy realized was that night at Howenstow had changed their lives...forever.


	8. Postscript

Authors note: I would just like to thank everyone that reviewed my story, and welcomed me to the Inspector Lynley Family, and to let you know the story doesn't end here.

There will be another story coming. It was the story I had planned to write first, but it is a complicated story, spanning 30 years, involving a lot of cannon research, so I put it on the back burner to write what I planned to be a quick "one off" story.

I discovered as I wrote, that this story could be read as a stand alone story or as a prequel to the larger one.

I would also like to ask any of the Lynley fans if there is someone who can help me with the shows history. I had the shows taped on VHS, but my machine died about a year ago. And anyway, trying to watch them all again would slow down my writing.

So if there are any readers who wouldn't mind trying to answer a question or two as it arises, please send me a PM, or respond in the review box.

So, thank you all again very much and keep an eye out for my next story. Titled:

_**Lady Asherton **_


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